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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656142">The Language of Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks'>DPPatricks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Starsky &amp; Hutch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Humor, M/M, commercial holiday, sentimentality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:47:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>February 14, 1980, as experienced by Starsky and Hutch</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Language of Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted on the Starsky&amp;Hutch 911 livejournal site, on 2/4/2016, this was my response to the "Multilingual Challenge - Valentine's Day"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>“Bonjour, mon Coeur.”</i>
</p>
<p>What? Wait! I was dreaming about Starsky and me but… not in French!</p>
<p>I rolled over and looked into the most intense midnight blue eyes in the galaxy. “Wha’?” I muttered, still half asleep.</p>
<p>“You heard me.” Starsky smirked. “I was kinda hoping you’d come back at me with the translation.”</p>
<p>“‘Good morning, my heart’,” I replied, softly.</p>
<p>He grinned that goofy smile I adore. “Knew you’d know.”</p>
<p>“High school French, Starsk. Haven’t spoken it in years!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter. You never forget the important words and phrases, right?”</p>
<p>I thought about that for a second. “Guess so.”</p>
<p>“You know what today is, o’ course.”</p>
<p>I tried to look as if coming up with the answer required thought. “February fourteenth, nineteen eighty. It’s Thursday.”</p>
<p>He punched me lightly. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Kill-the-Romance. Shoulda known you’d ignore a holiday.” He threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed, shivering. “Why is it so cold?”</p>
<p>I pulled him back against me and drew the covers over us again. “Because it’s the middle of winter, dummy. Even in southern California, it gets chilly this time of year.”</p>
<p>He snuggled but his happy mood was gone. “It’s our first Valentine’s Day together.”</p>
<p>I threaded my fingers through his dense curls. “I know that, Starsk. Believe me,” I said, fervently, “I know that.”</p>
<p>He relaxed in my arms. “Oh, okay.”</p>
<p>“Give a guy a chance to wake up, will ya?” I had wanted to make this day special for both of us but he’d caught me off guard. I’d have to do better. “How does heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast sound? With raspberry syrup. And lots of bacon!”</p>
<p>“Really? You wouldn’t kid me about something like that, would you, Hutch?”</p>
<p>His joy washed over me and I fell in love again. “No, babe, I wouldn’t kid you. I did the preparations last night, while you were taking your books back to the library. Won’t take me twenty minutes.” I pushed the covers off again and shoved him gently out of bed. “Go! Grab a shower. I’ll get mine afterward, while you wash the dishes.”</p>
<p>“Deal!”</p>
<p>My smile followed him into the bathroom.</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>When we got to the precinct, Simmons and Babcock were already at their desks, heart-embellished pencil holders prominently displayed.</p>
<p>“Hey, guys.” Starsky noticed the decorative additions immediately. “I see you’re in the spirit of the day.”</p>
<p>“Sure are, Starsky.” Babcock smiled at his partner. “We’re taking our wives out to dinner tonight, too.”</p>
<p>“The four of us haven’t double dated in years,” Simmons added. “We all figured it was way past time.”</p>
<p>Minnie Kaplan came in. She put a shopping bag on the nearest desk, opened it and took out a large soup bowl. She filled this with the traditional candies everybody remembers from grade school: small white and pink shapes imprinted with romantic words and phrases.</p>
<p>“Only four calories each, fellas,” Minnie said, heartily, “so, enjoy.” She picked up the grocery bag, which probably held more bowls and sweets, and looked at my partner. “Really good to have you back in the trenches with us, Starsky.”</p>
<p><i>“Merci beaucoup!”</i> Starsky actually bowed to her.</p>
<p>Smiling at him, she opened the door.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know you spoke French, Starsky.” Dobey surged through the opening. With his arms full, there was no room for Minnie to get past him.</p>
<p>“Only today,” Cap,” Starsky responded, jauntily. “Hey! Whacha got there?”</p>
<p>Instead of trying to hide it, Dobey held up a colorful object. “This is Edith’s Valentine’s gift to me.” It was a huge coffee mug, covered with bright red hearts. Sitting inside, but spilling out generously, was a stuffed bear clutching a velvet heart to its chest. “Be Mine” was embroidered on the tiny cushion.</p>
<p>“We got engaged on this date and, for some reason this year…” he cast a significant look at Starsky, “we remembered what we mean to each other.”</p>
<p>“What did you give her, Captain?” I asked, cautiously. “You did give her something, right?”</p>
<p>“Not yet, Hutchinson.” With a shy smile, he reached into a gift bag hanging from his wrist. “I’m saving this for tonight.” He brought out a beautiful red satin pillow shaped like a heart. It too, had stitched words: “I’m Yours.”</p>
<p>Starsky and I, Minnie, Simmons and Babcock broke into applause.</p>
<p>Dobey shoved the pillow carefully back in the bag and headed toward his office. “Why don’t you guys go arrest somebody?”</p>
<p><i>“Bien sur, mon capitan!”</i> Starsky called after him.</p>
<p>Since we hadn’t even taken our jackets off yet, Starsky opened the door and held it for me. <i>“Apres vous, monsieur.”</i></p>
<p>Passing a still smiling Minnie, Starsky whispered, “Thanks for all your help with the words, Min.”</p>
<p>On the way to the elevator, I nudged him lightly. “No wonder you’ve been spending so much time in Records lately.”</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>We prowled our beat all day but didn’t arrest anybody. Starsky had a chance to use <i>comment allez vous?</i> once and threw in a <i>merci</i> or two but, other than that, it was a pretty boring shift.</p>
<p>*******</p>
<p>Not having any reports to write we were on our way home at quitting time, for a change.</p>
<p>I’d called Helene at noon and asked her to prepare two orders of Veal Francaise. Traffic was light and darned if Starsky and I didn’t get there just when she had them ready.</p>
<p>I lit candles while Starsky poured wine. We hardly spoke at all during the delicious dinner, we mostly just looked at each other. Afterward, I washed the few dishes and Starsky dried.</p>
<p>“You really impressed me with your French today, Starsk,” I said, when we were sitting on the couch.</p>
<p>“The language of love, Hutch.”</p>
<p>“I’m aware of that, babe.” I put my arm around his shoulders.</p>
<p>“I didn’t get you a gift though.”</p>
<p><i>“Au contraire, mon amour.</i> You gave me you.”</p>
<p>He smiled shyly at me. “Well, I got one more phrase.”</p>
<p>I waited patiently.</p>
<p>
  <i>“Voulez vous couchet avec moi?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Ja, min kjaere.”</i>
</p>
<p>I got up and hurried toward the bedroom.</p>
<p>“Wait, Hutch! That’s not fair. I don’t even know what language that was. Hutchhhhhh!”</p>
<p>********</p>
<p>The language of love<br/>
Phrases learned and remembered<br/>
Celebrate amour</p>
<p>END</p>
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